


Coalescence

by russianwinter013



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Dark Past, F/M, Gore, Hinted Possession, M/M, Masochism, Massacres, Mental Instability, Multi, Other, Sadism, Torture, Violence, interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russianwinter013/pseuds/russianwinter013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of unfinished prompts and one-shots that may become longer and separate stories later on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Solace

**Author's Note:**

> Some chapters will end abruptly because they are unfinished prompts, but I will do my best to write an end to them.

Chapter Summary: Deathstrike and Breakdown spend a well-earned moment of peace and quiet together in which reflections are made and questions are answered.

* * *

 

Breakdown glanced up as the door to his shared quarters hissed open, setting the medical datapad currently in his servos aside.

Deathstrike entered noiselessly, wings lowered to press against his backstrut as they fanned the cool air in slow and deliberate movements. His crimson optics burned in the dim lighting, illuminating his dark faceplate in a hellish sort of light. Despite the lack of emotion displayed, the former Wrecker could tell that the assassin was exhausted.

"Breakdown." The matte black mech nodded in acknowledgement, stopping to lean against the wall as he shuttered his optics, a slight tremor running through his body.

The large navy mech stood, pedesteps echoing with a sharp snap as he stood and headed over to the other mech. Running a servo over the resting mech's wingtips, he wrapped his other servo around a slim waist. "Has Lord Megatron been overworking you again? Do you need any more rest than what you had last week?"

Deathstrike vented heavily, armor flaring ever so slightly as he moaned at the light touch. "I do not. I have merely been out of sorts lately."

Breakdown tilted his helm, optics narrowing ever so slightly. "Do you need to refuel again?"

A rumbling snarl escaped the matte black mech. "I do not, Breakdown. Just...leave me be." He turned away from his partner, heading to sit on the edge of their shared berth.

Tawny optics narrowing, the former Wrecker moved to sit next to the dark mech. "You know that you can talk to me, right?"

 Deathstrike snarled softly, shuttering his optics. "I know, Breakdown. I know."

Venting heavily, the former Wrecker put a servo around the assassin's shoulder panel and pulled him close. "Then you can tell me when you're ready."

"Mmm." The Seeker rested his helm against the broad chest of his mate, engines rumbling deeply.

Breakdown pulled away gently, staring down at the matte black mech. "You're warm."

The assassin let out a deep vent and gave a soft noise of confirmation, shifting against the bulk of his lover as he shuttered his optics.

"Deathstrike." The former Wrecker placed a servo on the small of the slimmer mech's backstrut, attempting to capture his wavering attention. "Why are you heating up?"

 "I am not." Deathstrike shook his helm minutely and flicked his wings, resettling his armor with a ripple. "Just...my... engines..."

"No, it isn't." The navy blue mech traced a servo over his mate's wings, drawing a soft groan from the mech. "You're sick."

A harsh cough came from the black mech as he shifted, drawing closer to the bulk of his partner. "Overheated. Not...sick." The assassin shuddered, engines whining softly. "I told you that I have been...out of sorts lately."

"How long have you been overheating?" Breakdown rumbled in displeasure at the assassin's lack of response and nudged insistently at his side. "Deathstrike. Answer me."

"Since our last encounter with the Autobots." The assassin drew his legs up to lay on the berth, resting his helm on the broad chest of his mate. "I cannot control it, and it often overwhelms me."

"Are you certain that the Autobots didn't do this?" Breakdown growled, narrowing his optics. "That they didn't infect you with some kind of virus?"

A hoarse laugh came from the slimmer mech. "Our enemies may despise me, but even they would not resort to such grisly tactics. It is not in their nature." His voice was soft, a barely audible whisper over the rumbling growl of his engines.

The former Wrecker curled his upper mouthplate in a snarl even as his voice remained steady. "Well, then. I'll have to run a diagnostic on your primary systems. Do you want to do it now—Deathstrike?"

The Seeker was venting deeply, optics shuttered as he lay against the chassis of his mate. 

He was asleep.

Smirking faintly, Breakdown pulled the slim mech closer and settled into a more comfortable position.

"Recharge well, Deathstrike."


	2. Fire & Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deathstrike and Breakdown getting frisky in a dark corridor of the Nemesis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set sometime after the episode "Operation: Breakdown."
> 
> Also, my second time writing smut. Constructive criticism allowed!

The former Wrecker groaned into the violent kiss his lover was giving him, feeling the slick and forked glossa ravenously explore his mouth. There was a vicious snarl, and then he felt the slim Seeker press him roughly against the wall of the darkened corridor.

Breaking away with a flare of heat from his spread manifolds, Breakdown smirked at his mate, golden optic burning bright. "What's gotten you in such a mood?"

Deathstrike grunted and pulled back, wings flared wide behind him as he ran his glossa over his fanged dentia. "Missed you." He pressed close to the bulkier mech, razor sharp dentia tracing over thick neck cabling.

The navy blue mech groaned, optic shuttering at the sensation of those dangerously pointed dentia nipping at his neck. "Admit it. You were worried for me."

"Worried for how idiotic you would be if you let the humans capture you again and tear out your other optic?" The triple changer grinned in a rare show of humor, flaring his wings high enough to envelop both of them in cool shadow. "Yes. I was."

Breakdown gave a huff of laughter and traced his digits over the sensor-laden metal of his mate's wings. "You killed those humans. Brutally, might I add, in that strange and captivating way that you usually do."

"A sadist, my dear Breakdown?" Deathstrike spread his wings into the roaming servos, biting back a moan. "I would have never guessed."  

"Keep being cheeky and I'll take you here in this hall." A large servo reached down to rub at the heated panel of the other mech. "Hmm. You're already all hot and bothered, aren't you?"  

The feral mech hissed, grinding into the rough touch. In his frenzied haze, he sank his fangs deep into the neck of his lover, drawing Energon only to lap and suck at the wound.

Breakdown drew in a sharp vent, flinching against the cold chassis of his lover. Curling his free servo against the small of the Seeker's backstrut, he ran it around in soothing circles. "Easy, Deathstrike. I'm still recovering." 

The assassin flicked his wings, growling lowly as he ground against his lover's servo. "Then do not tempt me."

"What? Like this?" Breakdown gave a dark grin as he activated the manual release on the Seeker's panel. Smirking at the scorching wetness and heat that dripped onto his hand, he slipped a digit into the open valve. "I'm not doing anything."

Moaning softly, Deathstrike pressed into the touch, the wet walls of his valve clenching around the intruder. The former Wrecker leaned close, pressing his mouthplates over the ice cold ones of his mate. The Seeker snarled and pressed harder into the kiss, rumbling as their glossae entangled. 

Deathstrike groaned and shoved the other mech away, shuddering as the digit in his valve scraped over hypersensitive nodes. "You are not going to frag me in the hall." 

"And who's to say that I won't?" With that infuriating smirk still on his faceplate, he slipped another digit into his lover's valve.

The assassin vented heavily, shaking his helm and baring his dentia in a snarl. He pressed his weight onto the chassis of his mate, hips rolling as he ground against the digits in his valve. 

Breakdown felt a pressure build behind his codpiece—his spike was twitching and smearing hot precum over the protective metal—and he groaned at the sight and feel of his lover becoming undone. Shifting his weight, he forced another digit into the dripping valve, relishing in the pleased and aroused moan that sounded as a result. 

Suddenly there was a sharp and slightly painful presence on the side of the bruiser's neck. Deathstrike was closer than he was before, and his fangs were extended to skin over the sensitive wiring.

"Ah—! Deathstrike, you keep that up and I'll overload before we even start." The former Wrecker groaned, hips jerking as they tried to make purchase with anything that would relieve him of the burning ache growing in his pelvic region.

The assassin rumbled deeply, soaked valve grinding against the armor of his mate's thigh. "Then we should head to our room." 


End file.
